Scripted
by SpeakNow1118
Summary: First: you think the worst is a broken heart, what's gonna kill you is the second part. Third is when your world splits down the middle. A series of oneshots inspired by the lyrics of The Script / multi-pair ::: Clace, Malec, Simabelle, Jaia angst, rated T, but some are more mature.
1. Nothing

**I own nothing. **

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_Am I better off dead?_

_Am I better off a quitter?_

_They say I'm better off now_

_Then I ever was with her._

_As they take me to my local down the street_

_I'm smiling but I'm dying_

_Trying not to drag my feet._

"'Nother shot," Jace demanded of the wolfish bartender. It was but a few moments later that he received the single swallow of the strongest whiskey the bar had in stock. The liquid fire was down his throat before the barkeeper could blink, and the golden eyed boy asked for another.

"I think you've had enough, Nephilim." The gravelly voice of the barkeep grated on Jace's nerves. He was here for a reason, and he would be damned if _anyone_ got in his way.

"I'll tell you when I think I've had enough," Jace answered through his gritted teeth. "So until I reach that point, be a good little Downworlder and keep the drinks coming." The man-wolf growled throatily, his lips curling dangerously, yet poured another shot. Jace swiped at his nose with the corner of his sleeve; the action reminded him of Clary.

That night on the roof of the Institute, her birthday. Her jacket, her tears. She had wiped her eyes just as he had wiped his nose.

Why did everything make him think of her?

Maybe he would be better off dead.

He wouldn't have to deal with this absolute anguish if he were dead. Quitting the pain that his life was wrought with would be so damn easy.

Isabelle and Alec kept telling him that he was better off without her. She wasn't really Nephilim. She could never lead the life that they did.

Plus, you know, she was his _sister_.

How screwed up was that? First time he ever saw himself loving someone and she was his sister.

He had to get away from them. Jace was so tired of smiling and pretending nothing was wrong, but he couldn't take it anymore. He went to the seediest Downworlder bar he could find and drowned his sorrows, knocking back shot after shot after shot. His ultimate goal was to get so trashed he couldn't even stand. He wanted to pass out in a back alley, hook up with some random redhead that, even in his inebriated state, would never, ever come close. He needed that.

_They say a few drinks_

_Will help me to forget her,_

_But after one too many,_

_I know that I'll never._

_Only they can see where this is gonna end,_

_They all think I'm crazy,_

_But to me it's perfect sense._

It is rapidly becoming clear to Jace that no amount of drinks could ever make him forget the smell of her hair, the soft caress of her lips, the way that her small fingers laced perfectly with his long ones. He just wanted to touch her again, see her again, kiss her again.

It was pretty obvious to everyone else in the bar how this was going to end. Jace was already halfway there. He was drunk off his ass, clearly distraught over a girl. The regulars saw this every night, and every all of the crazy bastards thought that they made perfect sense.

_And my mates are all there_

_Trying to calm me down_

_Cuz I'm shouting your name all over town._

_I'm swearing if I go there now,_

_I could change her mind and turn it all around_

_And I know that I'm drunk,_

_But I'll say the words,_

_And she'll listen this time even though they're slurred._

_I'll dial her number and confess to her_

_I'm still in love, but all I heard_

_Was nothing._

Slowly, Jace became aware of someone tugging at his arm, saying his name. Blindly, he shoved at the disturbance, but Luke had the advantage of being sober.

"Jace, enough. You need to come with me. Let's go back to my house; you can get some coffee and sober up before you go back to the Institute."

Jace tried to shrug him off, but somewhere, somehow, he knew that he had to get out of the bar. He had to see Clary, and he knew that Luke was the way to accomplish that. He allowed Luke to haul him to his feet, and fetched up hard against the bar while Luke paid for his drinks.

"Get out of here." Luke said savagely.

Together, the two of them stumbled back to Luke's house. The cool night air helped him to focus, and Jace shouted Clary's name. Once, twice.

"Luke, lemme go. I can talk to her, make her undershtand. Let me go, I have to see Clary. I have to get to her." Jace's words were slurred and broken, but every word he meant.

Thanking the Angel for providing him a moment of clarity, Jace's hand left Luke's shoulder, and though he staggered forward, he succeeded in pulling his phone from his pocket. He managed to dial the first few numbers of Clary's number before Luke's reflexes swiped the phone from him.

Jace attempted to take his phone back, calling curses down on Luke and his family, but its effectiveness was dampened by Jace needing to stop and vomit.

_So I stumble there_

_Along the railings and the fences._

_I know if I'm face to face_

_That she'll come to her senses_

_Every drunk step I take leads me to her door_

_If she sees how much I'm hurting_

_She'll take me back for sure_

After the painful retching, Jace had forgotten all about his phone. Instead, he focused for a few moments on placing one foot in front of the other, passing railings and fences as Luke stayed a step behind, ready to assist him in his lurching steps.

Jace stopped short, a stroke of brilliancy hitting him once more. Finally, a real idea. All that he needed to do was see her face to face. She'd understand. Clary wouldn't be able to see him in such pain. She would need to ease it. She wouldn't leave him in such misery, surely.

She'd take him back, sister or not.

_And my mates are all there_

_Trying to calm me down_

_Cuz I'm shouting your name all over town._

_I'm swearing if I go there now,_

_I could change her mind and turn it all around_

_And I know that I'm drunk,_

_But I'll say the words,_

_And she'll listen this time even though they're slurred._

_I'll dial her number and confess to her_

_I'm still in love, but all I heard_

_Was nothing._

_She said nothing_

_Oh, I wanted words, but all I heard was nothing_

_Oh, I got nothing._

_I got nothing._

_Oh, I wanted words, but all I heard was nothing_

Jace broke into an uneven, reeling run, wanting, no, needing close the distance between himself and Clary. Luke yelled for Jace to stop, but he was sobering now, between the air and activity, he would be fine soon. Jace had put only a few feet between himself and Luke, but it was enough. He ducked into the stopped cab and tossed two twenty dollar bills over the seat, barking out the address tersely.

He just had to see Clary.

His mind and heart screamed for her.

He was there.

She was inside.

He threw himself from the cab and staggered to the porch, pounding the flat of his hand against the battered wooden door.

He cried, sobbed, wailed, slurring words together unintelligibly, begging her to come out and face him.

Oh, how he needed her, needed her more than words could ever express and he needed to see her now, feel her in his arms.

He collapsed to his knees on Luke's porch, still screaming hoarsely for her.

Finally, the light flicked on, and Clary's flaming hair appeared in the well worn door. Her green eyes widened, and then sparked with anger. He reached up for her, but she stepped back.

"Clary," his rough voice sounded terrible even to his own ears, but she had to understand. He was drunk off of love and his feelings for her would never end.

He poured himself out to her, words running together.

_Sometimes love's intoxicating_

_Oh, you're coming down_

_Your hands are shaking_

_When you realize there's no one waiting_

Clary stepped back inside.

Turned off the light.

She was gone.

She had said nothing.

His feelings, his bared soul, his empty self, were nothing to her.

He closed his eyes and collapsed on the porch, reaching up toward the now darkened window panes, reaching for her.

A single tear fell from his eye, dripping down over the apple of his cheek, the strong curve of his throat, splashed on the rough wooden planks of Luke's porch.

_Am I better off dead?_

_Am I better off a quitter?_

_They say I'm better off now_

_Then I ever was with her._

How could she have said nothing?

Nothing at all.

Maybe they were right and he was better off without that girl. That maddeningly gorgeous, infuriatingly delicate girl that he knew he needed.

He wasn't better off without her; that was insanity.

He was only better off in her arms.

The next morning, Jace sat in Luke's kitchen nursing a cup of black coffee and a slice of toast. His eyes were ringed in black, the whites tinged red with blood.

When Clary emerged from her room, fully dressed and showered, Jace said nothing.

Nothing at all.

~:~

_And my mates are all there_

_Trying to calm me down_

_Cuz I'm shouting your name all over town._

_I'm swearing if I go there now,_

_I could change her mind and turn it all around_

_And I know that I'm drunk,_

_But I'll say the words,_

_And she'll listen this time even though they're slurred._

_I'll dial her number and confess to her_

_I'm still in love, but all I heard_

_Was nothing._

_She said nothing_

_Oh, I wanted words, but all I heard was nothing_

_Oh, I got nothing._

_I got nothing._

_Oh, I wanted words, but all I heard was nothing_

_Oh, I got nothing_

_I got nothing_

_And I got nothing_

_Nothing._

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**Credit for this goes to the ever incredible Danny ****O'Donoghue.**

**I will be continuing this, and I would be interested in hearing what pairings you think would go well with specific Script songs, so leave it in the reviews? **

**That'd be great, thanks. **


	2. Six Degrees of Separation

Jace has read a thousand books. He doesn't watch much television though. It isn't helping any. He was getting desperate – drinking, smoking, picking bar fights with werewolves. Clary was so far away, yet she only a few blocks from the exact place he stood. He had to take his mind off of her.

Faking smiles, lying through his pearly white teeth – this wasn't him. His life sucked. All this shit was close to killing him. But he couldn't actually say anything about it, because he was Jace. The unflappable, unsinkable, unshakeable, unbeatable Jonathan fucking Wayland.

No. Morgenstern. He wasn't Michael Wayland's son.

He was Valentine's Morgenstern.

_You've read the books,  
You've watched the shows,  
What's the best way no one knows, yeah,  
Meditate, get hypnotized.  
Anything to take from your mind.  
But it won't go, ohhhh ohhh  
You're doing all these things out of desperation,  
Ohhh ohhh,  
You're going through six degrees of separation._

_You hit the drink, you take a toke  
Watch the past go up in smoke.  
Fake a smile, yeah, lie and say that,  
You're better now than ever, and your life's okay  
When it's not. No.  
You're doing all these things out of desperation,  
Ohhh ohhh,  
You're going through six degrees of separation.  
_

His heart was broken. His whole life was lie. His family wasn't actually his family. His surrogate family couldn't stand to look at him.

He wanted to die. He just didn't have the courage to do it himself.

Hell, his world was split down the middle, ripped apart and shredded to pieces. The girl he loved was his sister. His real family was either dead or a mass murderer.

He can't fix himself. It's impossible. He broke a little bit inside every time he saw Clary, but the worst came when he saw Clary kissing Simon through her window.

_First, you think the worst is a broken heart  
What's gonna kill you is the second part  
And the third, Is when your world splits down the middle  
And fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself  
Fifth, you see them out with someone else  
And the sixth, is when you admit that you may have fucked up a little  
_

Oh, yeah. He was fucked.

Every man for himself.

_(Oh no there ain't no help, it's every man for himself)  
(No no there ain't no help, it's every man for himself)  
_

He got worse, he knows.

So he went to a witch. Bought some nasty potions to knock him out and take his mind of things. He couldn't help but chuckle once to himself, a dark, foreboding sound that was guttural and harsh.

The witch led him to a bed, laid him down and surrounded his body with stone. Things to unlock his chakras and help him feel the world as it truly is.

This just made him think of Clary and when she snidely told him not to quote Blake at her.

Maybe the drugs would heal his soul. He doubted it though.

_You tell your friends, yeah, strangers too,  
Anyone who'll throw an arm around you, yeah  
Tarot cards  
Gems and stones,  
Believing all that shit is gonna heal your soul.  
Well it's not, no, wohhhh_

You're only doing things out of desperation,  
Ohhh ohhh,  
You're goin' through six degrees of separation.

First, you think the worst is a broken heart  
What's gonna kill you is the second part  
And the third, Is when your world splits down the middle  
And fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself  
Fifth, you see them out with someone else  
And the sixth, is when you admit that you may have fucked up a little

He. Was. Fucked. He had no life without Clary. He'd known her only for a few short weeks, but his mind was made up. He couldn't start over, he wouldn't find closure. He wanted her, he needed her. He needed to feel her skin on his.

He needed to feel her underneath him, her nails scratching lines down his back, her legs wrapped around his waist, her lips on his, her throat raw and sore from screaming his name out in pleasure… over and over again.

But it couldn't happen.

Because she was his sister.

His fucking sister.

Through the haze of the drugs, he saw Clary's face, eyes rolled back into her head, a sheen of sweat over her naked body.

But he started to come down.__

No there's no starting over,  
Without finding closure, you'd take them back,  
No hesitation,  
That's when you know you've reached the sixth degree of separation

No there's no starting over,  
Without finding closure, you'd take them back,  
No hesitation,  
That's when you know you've reached the sixth degree of separation

First, you think the worst is a broken heart  
What's gonna kill you is the second part  
And the third, Is when your world splits down the middle  
And fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself  
Fifth, you see them out with someone else

_And the sixth is when you admit that you may have fucked up a little_

His body ached, vision blurred.

He stood and stumbled from the alleyway door, dropping money on the floor for the hag to pick up at her own leisure.

Jace went home, only to be plagued with dreams of Clary and the smoky visions from the drugs.


End file.
